Evolution
by HigherMagic
Summary: Sequel to 'Animals'. AU. The Archangels on the Earth were running thin. Most of them were killed at birth, perceived as too dangerous or too powerful to keep alive. Gabriel and Rafael were the last ones standing. They needed more; Lilith needed more.
1. Chapter 1

**Evolution**

**Sequel to 'Animals'**

**Rating: NC-17**

**Pairings: Human!Azazel/Human!Alistair, Angel!Dean/Demon!Sam, Gabriel/Kali, Sam/Gabriel (arranged), Sam/Dean/Castiel, a bit of Dean/Gabriel. Mentions of Lilith/Lucifer and Rafael/Pam.**

**Warnings: Animal-like interactions, Wing-porn, Rough sex, Arranged sex under duress, Language, DSM dynamics, Violence, MPreg, OCs that are characters from the show but obviously have different relationships with the others.**

**Summary: The Archangels on the Earth were running thin. Most of them were killed at birth, perceived as too dangerous or too powerful to keep alive. Gabriel and Raphael were the last ones standing. They needed more; Lilith needed more.**

**Disclaimers: Nothing is owned. I'm just playing in Kripke's sandbox - or as I like to call it - God's epic sandbox of awesome. I may be convinced into selling my soul for creative rights, however. (:**

**Please let the record show that I HAVE NOT FINISHED THIS STORY YET. I just wanted to post SOMETHING before I disappear for all of August, so I'm sorry, but this story will not be regularly or quickly updated. The going's been slow, guys. :/

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It was a whole year before things went to Hell.

Over that time, where Castiel, Dean and Sam all lived with Azazel and Alistair, the two Angels' season became synced, like women with 'That Time of the Month'. Normally, this wouldn't be much of a problem – with Dean being incapable of carrying young and Sam having no interest in impregnating the older Angel, there were no worries about procreation. And Angels tended to become more obedient and submissive during their seasons, eager to please their dominant counterparts and so didn't cause much trouble.

But there was some confusion between the Angels. In their culture, the submissive bore the mating mark and therefore that Angel was quieter, and their mates became more aggressive and protective during their seasons. This didn't work when Castiel's submissive bore the mark of another, more dominant male, as well as giving Castiel his own mark.

In human terms, they were both 'versatile'.

This was practically unheard of in Angelic society. Dean was okay, because he had Sam to keep him in his place, but since Sam practically refused to touch Castiel without Dean as a buffer between them, the older Angel had no one to keep him in line.

It was normally manageable things; he'd be a little more assertive in bed or more aggressive towards Alistair and Azazel, but once, a year after Michael, when Castiel and Dean were both in season and Castiel had gotten into a physical fight with Sam over Dean, Alistair couldn't take it anymore.

"They practically destroyed half the apartment!" he growled, and that was an understatement; the windows had either been cracked or shattered completely, when Sam had punched Castiel hard enough to send him hurtling towards the window. There were large holes beaten out of the plaster, and most of the lights had burst, overwhelmed by the flux of the Angel and Demon's powers. "I let it go for this long, but not anymore; that creature is dangerous and we need to either get him under control or sell him."

Azazel sighed, munching on a strip of bacon as he looked towards the closed door to the second bedroom, where Castiel had been sent until both he and Sam had cooled down. Sam was in the master bedroom and Dean lay curled up on the couch in the living room, separated from the both of them. "I agree, but we can't separate them permanently – they're mated or bonded or whatever."

Castiel had been collared, as were the laws of the city, but they hadn't gotten a tattoo to bind him to either Azazel or Alistair. The reasons were quite simple – Azazel owned Sam. Getting an Angelic tattoo for Castiel would be like he was replacing Sam and the Demon was remarkably territorial at the best of times. But then again, Alistair had gotten his tattoo for Dean replaced – they had no idea what would happen if he had a tattoo for each of them and controlled both Angels separately. It had never happened before – the link between Master and Angel was quite taxing already, and they had no idea what would happen if Alistair had both the Angels under his control, or if it was even legal.

"Look, what if we…like…combined the tattoo, so it worked for both Dean and Cas? That can be done, right?" Alistair asked, stirring his lukewarm coffee absently, his eyes also locked onto the door to the second bedroom. "It's either that or sell him, and like you said, I don't want to risk breaking up a bonded pair like that." Say what you want, Alistair did care about his companion – Dean had them all wrapped around his little finger like the baby of the family.

Azazel sighed and nodded. "I think that's the best option we have."

Hearing the words his Masters were speaking, Dean didn't like where the conversation was headed one bit. They couldn't take Castiel away! They couldn't; Dean wouldn't let them. Something had to be done, though, because Castiel refused to _listen _to orders. If Dean could convince him to behave, maybe then he could stay…

Dean pushed himself up from the couch, padding over to the second bedroom, and he let himself inside quickly and quietly, unnoticed as the humans went on about their day.

_Cas… _Dean's wing brushed gently with the other Angel's, and the younger male purposely ignored the flinch that Castiel gave at the contact; he was too aggressive today, and jumpy, his season making both his hormones and his pheromones jump all over the place, but still Dean persevered; _You must calm down. Please. Sam and I need you here; please don't make them take you away from us._

The smaller, older male hissed, his wings flexing already in defense, as though daring to let them try. Dean tried to calm down his mate by brushing their wings together again. Castiel was sitting on the side of their bed in the second bedroom, so Dean kneeled between Castiel's legs, resting his hands on the other Angel's knees, bright eyes beseeching when he looked up.

_Please, be good. For me. For us. I can't live without you. _And to many a human that's a cheesey, over-used sentiment, but to Angels it's very serious – and also very possible. Trying to separate life-mated Angels can often result in death from heartbreak. Castiel and Dean weren't quite mates when Dean was lost to Michael, but now they definitely were and separating them could end in catastrophe, especially if it's by violent means.

_I love you, Cas…_

_Show me. _In a blink the usual gentleness in Castiel's eyes was gone, replaced by black lust and _want. _Dean shivered under his mate's possessive gaze, but didn't break eye contact as he slowly leaned forward, mouthing at Castiel's rapidly hardening cock through his jeans – the Angel had taken on the more casual attire worn by Dean and Sam. They both seemed to approve of the tight-fitting jeans and thin t-shirts, and Cas enjoyed bringing out their jealous sides by flaunting it.

Castiel's eyes closed and his head dropped back, a gasp escaping him at the wet heat of Dean's mouth. Dean slowly, gently rubbed circles in Castiel's thighs with his thumbs, the rest of his hands massaging the Angel as he licked at, bit at and blew on Castiel through his clothes, making the Angel wish, not for the first time, that they were both significantly more naked.

Dean's fingers deftly unzipped Castiel's jeans and unbuttoned them, sliding the confining garment down until Castiel's hard cock sprung free – all three of the creatures had long ago dropped the need for underwear.

Immediately Castiel fisted one of his hands in Dean's hair, pulling the other Angel down, and obediently Dean parted his lips and swallowed his mate in one long dive, relaxing the muscles of his throat; he kept going until his nose touched the wiry black hairs around the base of Castiel's erection. The older male quivered, muscles clenched tightly from the effort of holding off his orgasm as Dean's talented mouth went to work – when one had two dominant mates like Sam and Castiel, one learned how to give one hell of a blowjob very quickly.

The scent of Castiel's season was heavy in the air when Dean inhaled, humming gently around Castiel as he lifted his head and sank back down, swallowing everything the older Angel had to offer in one go, throat relaxed around his mate's erection. Dean's hair had grown longer over the months, and Castiel fisted the soft brown as he directed Dean's head, getting the angle and feeling he wanted with a few alterations. Dean was pliant, letting Castiel fuck his mouth, his fingers knotted tightly in the bed sheets outside Castiel's thighs as the older Angel grunted, stilled, and came down his throat. Dean wasn't allowed off until he had licked and swallowed every drop.

When Castiel's hands loosened in his hair, Dean pulled off, stretching his sore jaw a little and he smiled up at the older Angel, who was flushed from his orgasm, sweat beading at his temples. Dean pushed himself up, so he was kneeling high enough to kiss the other Angel, and Castiel eagerly met his lips in a sloppy clash, biting at Dean's mouth until the younger Angel opened for him and Castiel could taste himself on Dean's tongue. He purred into the black-winged Angel's mouth, pulling Dean upright to straddle his lap.

_Please, please behave…_ Dean murmured the words through their bond, one of his hands lightly stroking Castiel's ruffled silvery-black feathers, soothing his mate as he continued to come down from his high. _I want you to stay with us. Don't make them take you away._

Castiel was silent, and for a terrifying moment Dean thought he would refuse, but then his shoulders slumped, and he nudged his assent.

_Very well. _

Alistair took Castiel with him the next day to get his tattoo altered so that it would work for both Angels, and Azazel went to work without Sam or Dean. This left the young Angel with a very pissy and pouty Demon to deal with.

Unfortunately, as Dean and Castiel had become in sync with their seasons, for five days every three months Sam was surrounded by the scent of two very potent Angel seasons, and it was driving him absolutely insane. Azazel, once he'd figured out why Sam got so aggressive at these times, had tried taking him away, getting him out of the house to release all the sexual energy that such a dominant male like him was bound to build up, but that didn't work well because Sam was convinced; _convinced, _that if he left Dean and Cas alone for any length of time they would get closer together, and _no one _was taking Dean away from Sam.

It was a completely ridiculous notion, of course, that Dean would just take Castiel and Sam would be left on his own, but many fears are irrational. It was up to Dean to try and cure him. It didn't help that Sam had learned about the joined tattoo Castiel was getting, which would, in Sam's eyes, bind him even more closely to Dean.

_You're a fool, _Dean growled into Sam's mind as he descended again – the Angel never needed to breathe, it seemed – and swallowed Sam whole, his nose brushing against Sam's abdomen as he twisted his head. _To think I would leave you. To think you wouldn't be enough._

_God…Dean…_

Sam growled, fisting his hands tightly in Dean's hair as the Angel swallowed him down, pretty pink lips stretched over his cock as Dean's head bobbed in a slow, maddening rhythm. Sam wanted nothing more than to force Dean's head down, make him swallow and _take it, _but that wasn't the game today. Today, it was about Dean showing Sam that he was appreciated; wanted.

Blowjobs often worked quite well.

Sam's hand tightened in Dean's hair, just a little. _You are bonded to him. You will share a Master. _And yes, so his voice may have sounded slightly pouty. Sue him.

Dean hummed a little, the vibrations going right up Sam's spine and the Demon hissed, clenching his hands again in Dean's hair as he pulled the Angel off – blowjobs are nice, but that's not the way Sam wants this to end and they both know it. Dean gave a little knowing smirk as he pushed himself to his feet in one smooth movement. He was still fully clothed, a fact that Sam intended to change, but Dean beat him to it. He dodged out of the way of the Demon's questing fingers and crossed his arms over his stomach, catching onto the hem of his t-shirt and pulling the garment clean over his head, letting it drop on the floor.

Dean's skin was glowing, almost; golden-brown despite his lack of time in the sun, and completely unmarred with scars and blemishes. Perfect, powerful muscle slid and shifted under that thin layer, all that coiled energy compacted into a beautiful vessel. Sam's eyes flickered to black as they devoured his mate hungrily, and when the Demon met Dean's eyes, he was pleased to see his mate blushing under the scrutiny.

The Angel shed his jeans hastily, glad for the fact that all three of them seem to have decided against the need for underwear ever – they have sex at least twice a day, regardless of season, and underwear just gets in the way. Within a second Sam was with a lapful of fevered Angel, Dean burning hot and needy under his fingertips as Sam caught a hold of Dean's hips, pulling the Angel down so that his cock could settle firmly against Dean's. Friction sent them both moaning and shuddering.

_You have no idea…_ Dean shook his head, his lips finding the pulse in Sam's neck and nipping there, hard enough to feel but not to mark – Dean wore the mark, he was the submissive, not Sam. _Do you even…Sam…_ Dean's voice was affectionate, if a little exasperated. _You know…I made my hair longer, for you. I know you like having something to hold on to. Not for Cas; for _you. _And when I am troubled in my sleep, it's the darkness I press into, not the light. You _saved _me, you marked me. I am yours. I have always been yours. _Dean's beautiful ebony wings stretched around Sam, encasing him in his heated Grace. _Please believe me. _

_You are bonded to him, _Sam repeated, nuzzling into the mating mark that was permanently on Dean's neck. _You have a connection with him that I cannot understand; will never understand. You are more his in more ways than you were ever mine._

_Because of Grace? _

Sam didn't answer; couldn't answer. His very soul roiled and raged at the thought of that beautiful, blue-eyed Angel stealing his mate away, but he felt powerless to stop it. He could only throw all his love at Dean and, at the same time, shut himself away, lessen the blow before it came.

_I am yours. _Dean's voice was soft, gentle as he brushed his lips against Sam's, feeling how the Demon's body relaxed under the intimate touch; Dean pushed all his love towards Sam, as hard as he could, as well as the devotion and unswerving loyalty the Angel felt. For all the dominance the Demon possessed, kissing was the one thing he let Dean take the lead in, having never been predisposed to it, and even a year later he was still a learner. Dean suspected it was because Castiel had taught him how to kiss – yet more proof of Castiel's claim – that Sam hesitated in engaging in it. But it always left them tingling pleasantly, backing up their bond as their bodies got as close as they could.

Dean shifted on Sam's lap, his knees on the mattress as he allowed Sam's cock to settle behind him, close to nudging at his entrance but not quite. Dean placed another gentle nip to Sam's neck, nuzzling and inhaling at the Demon's scent like he would die without it.

_Let me show you. _

Sam complied readily; Dean was still loose from the wake-up sex the three'd had earlier that morning, when Sam had fucked him slow and deep, and then Castiel had had his turn. No doubt Dean was still wet, slick and open up there; a theory that was proven when Sam slid in with barely a hitch.

When Dean was in season Castiel and Sam alternated between mating with him, the Angel always coming apart under their talented hands and mouths. Their styles were so totally different; Castiel was dirty and harsh, driving Dean crazy with sex talk and filthy promises whispered through their mental link, guaranteeing that if Dean behaved he would fulfill each and every one of them.

They were working through a list.

Sam, on the other hand, was gentle and slow. He would be the type to tease for hours, backing off and driving forward, until Dean was begging, _pleading, _for release from him. Sam was usually merciful and would give it, but sometimes…sometimes, he'd leave Dean ticking over. The young black-winged Angel was absolutely breathtaking in his submission to his two mates, when he finally came apart after hours or days of exquisite torture.

One thing Sam and Cas did have in common – they liked to bite.

Hard. And often.

Dean almost looked like a skewbald by the end of their first week, after the reunion following Michael. If Alistair or Azazel noticed they paid it no mind and made no comment, and Dean suspected they did know; the walls were very thin in the apartment.

But anyway, that worked out pretty well because Dean…well…Dean liked to be bitten.

The Angel moaned loudly when Sam's teeth sank into the ever-present mating mark on Dean's neck, larger and darker than Castiel's which adorned the other side, as he took a firm hold of Dean's hips and worked the Angel up and down, driving into him as deeply as he could in that position. He wanted nothing more than to just throw Dean onto his back and pound into the Angel until there was no doubt for either of them who belonged to who, but he wouldn't, couldn't; missionary was one position Dean still refused to do, still freaked out about because he hated feeling trapped like that. Sure, Sam or Castiel could restrain him, talk dirty to him, hurt him and bite him and do all sorts of unspeakable things, but if they tried to do any of this with Dean on his back, the young Angel would freak out. Their first few and only attempts had ended in violence and Dean refusing to touch either of them – or let them touch him – for days.

Dean's Grace enveloped Sam's dark soul as they made love; slow and unhurried and long – a change of pace for them.

_I love you, Sam…So much…Love you. Yours. _Mine. _Sam…_

Encased as he was in Dean's light, in his mate's tight heat and warmth and the beautiful downy cocoon of his wings, Sam buried his face in Dean's neck, growling out a broken moan as he came inside of his mate. Dean didn't comment on how the Demon's shoulders shook; he merely stroked his hands through Sam's hair until the Demon made him tremble with his own orgasm minutes later. The two of them collapsed, sated, on the bed, and didn't wake up until Cas and Alistair returned home.

Things were looking up from there. Castiel had finally learned to calm himself down, now that he was bound to Alistair. Sure, where were the occasional disagreements between him and Sam, much like when Dean had first moved in, but for the most part they lived in an easy cohabitation, mostly to keep Dean happy – Dean loved them both, and they both loved him, so they were able to put up with each other for the most part to keep their mate loved, safe and content.

Until it all went to Hell, as I've mentioned previously.


	2. Chapter 2

**Evolution**

**Rating: NC-17**

**Pairings: Human!Azazel/Human!Alistair, Angel!Dean/Demon!Sam, Gabriel/Kali, Sam/Gabriel (arranged), Sam/Dean/Castiel, a bit of Dean/Gabriel. Mentions of Lilith/Lucifer and Rafael/Pam.**

**Warnings: Animal-like interactions, Wing-porn, Rough sex, Arranged sex under duress, Language, DSM dynamics, Violence, MPreg, OCs that are characters from the show but obviously have different relationships with the others.**

**Summary: The Archangels on the Earth were running thin. Most of them were killed at birth, perceived as too dangerous or too powerful to keep alive. Gabriel and Raphael were the last ones standing. They needed more; Lilith needed more.**

**Disclaimers: Nothing is owned. I'm just playing in Kripke's sandbox - or as I like to call it - God's epic sandbox of awesome. I may be convinced into selling my soul for creative rights, however. (:**

**Please let the record show that I HAVE NOT FINISHED THIS STORY YET. I just wanted to post SOMETHING before I disappear for all of August, so I'm sorry, but this story will not be regularly or quickly updated. The going's been slow, guys. :/

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He was finally ready.

It had taken a year. A whole year to get permission, to plan and to make sure everything was set, down to the direction of the wind that day. Every strike of the plan had a counterstrike. Every eventuality decided, every loophole and possibility planned for and taken into account, with a backup plan in case something did go wrong.

Everything was set. Gabriel was ready.

When the Archangel – the youngest of the four – had heard that his oldest brother Michael had been killed – by a _Demon, _no less – it had taken all of his finite self control not to destroy the compound in which he lived, smite everyone inside, and then go hunt down the suicidal bastard who'd killed his brother. Michael, his most beloved sibling after the deceased Lucifer. Some Demon had dared to strike Michael down.

Well, he would pay.

But first, Gabriel had plans.

The Archangels on the Earth were running thin. Most of them were killed at birth, perceived as too dangerous or too powerful to keep alive. Gabriel and Raphael were the last ones standing. They needed more; Lilith needed more.

Lilith and 'Morning Star' kept all the remaining Archangels in facilities around the continental United States. Michael had been in Kansas. Raphael was somewhere in Maine, and Gabriel was being kept in Florida. Hurricane season was coming and Gabriel could feel it in the air – the gathering storm and the buildup of humidity and electricity. He felt it as nervous energy in his wings, a spark that never ceased to run up and down his spine. He was practically shaking with anticipation. All that was left was to part with his Mistress.

Archangels were only ever bound to women; perceived as the weaker sex and less inclined to power and dominion. Born of an Angel and a Demon, Archangels were written as _'Spawn of both Heaven and Hell, with neither the goodness nor the evil intent to suit either place.' _And because of this, they had been given to women – too unclean and too powerful to be the property of men. When the first Archangels were conceived, beginning with Michael and Lucifer, it was in a time when woman were seen as serpents, servants of the Devil, and evil and weak. Such creatures would never be able to rise to power, it was thought, and become such dictators as men were capable of becoming. So they were entrusted with these powerful creatures, bound to them through sex and blood and magic.

Michael had been bound to a woman named Ellen. When she died, and her daughter along with her, there were no more women in that line for him to serve, and so Lilith took him in and bound him to her instead – by this time Lucifer had, of course, passed on; it would be suicide to try and control two Archangels at the same time. Michael's death on top of Lucifer's might have killed her is she wasn't already too crazy to care. Raphael served a blind psychic by the name of Pamela. And Gabriel…

Gabriel belonged to Kali.

She was beautiful, fierce, a tyrant in her own right. So far she only serviced Lilith for her own greater plans, but those would wait. Gabriel had, through his strong magic and binding Grace, prolonged her life so that Kali would live forever, if he did. Another reason to begin the creation of new Archangels – Pamela grew old, and with her Raphael weakened. Soon Gabriel would be the only one left.

He'd done his research. Sam was a strong Demon, born of a powerful bloodline with fine breeding. He would make a good carrier for Archangels, as would his mate. Before Gabriel killed him, he would get his use out of Sam; after all, if an Angel and Demon make an Archangel, what would happen between an Archangel and a Demon? – God, Gabriel felt heat rush through him at the sheer thought of creating something so powerful.

And if something went wrong, well, he never intended Sam to live past the nursing stages anyway.

Lilith would be very pleased with him, which would make her pleased with Kali, which would make Kali happy. Gabriel lived to serve his Mistress.

Everything was set and planned for. Now all Gabriel had to do was say goodbye.

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"Be safe, my love," Kali murmured, brushing some of her pet's hair from his face. Gabriel purred lightly, turning his head inward to kiss at her wrist, where the tattoo that bound him to her lay. She smiled shakily, tears in her eyes as she pulled out a thin silver blade, almost the length of her forearm. With it she cut the chain connecting his spine to his collar, unwinding the silver threads free so they hung loosely down his back. Then, eyes locked with Gabriel, she pressed the knife against her own skin, ready to break the bond between them.

Gabriel stopped her, a hand closing around her knife-wielding hand. She frowned at him, confused for a moment before his serious eyes met hers. Normally Gabriel was so _light, _free and playful and a constant happy companion; no one was in a sour mood for long with him around. Now, however, with the death of his brother, the Archangel was stoic, a stranger to her in his somber attitude.

He took the knife from her and held her wrist gently, pressing another kiss to the tattoo before he sliced down, severing their bond himself. They both gasped at the sudden loss. With a bond it is like equilibrium; soul and Grace flowing into each other in equal amounts, steady and constant. Now they were severed and dormant, alone, empty.

There were tears in Kali's eyes when she lifted her shaking and blood-covered hands to unlock the collar around Gabriel's neck, severing their tie more completely. When the skin of his neck was bared, rubbed slightly raw from years and years wearing that collar, she kissed him, desperate and yearning for the closeness that had been a background for them for centuries, _millennia. _

Their bodies tried to become as close as soul and Grace had been, to no avail. Even when Gabriel rolled Kali onto her back, between her spread legs and covered her with the raw feeling of his Grace, his white wings encasing and surrounding her as they became one, they wept and tasted each other's tears, for they knew they could always get closer. Always closer. Never close enough.

_Goodbye, Mistress. _He pressed a soft kiss into the black mane of her hair, eyes tightly closed as he held her while they both shook, and then he was gone, having taken flight so quickly that no human eyes could follow. Kali was left alone in her bedroom, and when she sat up after a long moment, she realized he'd taken the silver blade with him.

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"John? What's the matter?" Sam's head snapped up at the worry in his Master's tone, frowning slightly in concern. Unconsciously he gathered Dean and Castiel closer, the two Angels slumbering on in his arms as he curled around them on their bed. The door was slightly ajar, affording Sam a view of where his Master sat on the couch, phone in hand.

"I see. Are you sure?" A pause, then; "Of course we will. Thanks for the heads up." He snapped the phone shut, then stood. "Sam!"

The Demon reluctantly disentangled himself – no small feat when Dean kept clinging to him like a limpet – and moved to his Master's side. A soft, querying sound left his throat, tinged with worry as he nuzzled into his Master's side, trying to offer comfort at the same time as asking what was wrong. Azazel's hand found his hair and stroked a couple of times, Sam purring a little under the affectionate touch.

"Sammy, I need you to listen very carefully, okay?" Azazel asked, crouching down so he was at eye level with Sam. The Demon cocked his head to one side, eyes sliding to flat black as he focused, giving Azazel his full attention. The human smiled. "I'm going to go outside for a while, and you need to watch Dean and Castiel until I get back."

The Demon almost snorted at the assumption he would do anything otherwise, but Azazel held firm; "I mean it, Sammy. Don't let them out of your sight for a second until I get back, you hear me?"

Sam blinked once, and then nodded. When Azazel kept looking unsure, Sam did something he'd only done a handful of times in his life; he pushed a thought at Azazel. _They will be safe. _He'd only ever directly talked to Azazel in his language – for he wasn't fluent – when the human was a young boy, beaten by his father, and Sam had been there to soothe and comfort him…and plot justice. But that's a different story.

If his Master was surprised at the direct contact, he didn't show it. He merely smiled, scratching at the nape of Sam's neck again before he stood. "Make sure they are. And don't leave the house. Don't let anyone inside."

_It's amazing, _Sam thought as Azazel closed the door behind him, _that they think we're so unintelligent, and then seem unsurprised when we speak. _The human language was clumsy, awkward. Sam gave up trying to learn it years ago, content with speaking Latin and Enochian.

He was beginning to think that the decision to stay ignorant had been a bad one.

* * *

"So what are you saying?" Alistair demanded, tense in his chair across from John. Azazel sat by his side, worried but outwardly calm, a hand on Alistair's knee to keep the more hotheaded of the two of them down. "An _Archangel _is after us?"

John sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "No, I'm not saying that," he said, and he sounded angry, like they'd been going over this for hours instead of the five minutes they'd been at the station for. "What I'm telling you are the facts; an Archangel has been spotted within the city, uncollared and unbound, and it's almost been a year since the whole thing between your Angel and 'Morning Star'. I'm just saying it might be coincidence, but I doubt it."

When the two men across from him were silent, John sighed again, taking a long drink from his coffee mug. "Look, I'm not jumping to any conclusions, but…the only Archangels I know of…they're bound to Lilith, alright? Or her associates. And from the description given by eyewitnesses, we have reason to believe that this Archangel might be Gabriel, who was directly related to Michael. Angels are very familial creatures, you must understand. If Gabriel thinks there may be a reason for vengeance on you – the people responsible for his brother's death – then it could be why he's here."

"So, what? What do we do?" Alistair asked, his voice almost a growl as his fingers tightened reflexively around his altered tattoo. Dean and Castiel would surely be able to feel his distress; Azazel attempted to soothe the fist away. "Just sit here with our thumbs up our asses and wait for…what? Gabriel to come and kill us all?"

"Look, I'm not saying that!" John's hand slammed down onto his desk, making both the other men jump. "If Sam killed Michael, Gabriel's gonna want his blood. If you want I can try and sign you _all _up for a sort of Witness Protection, or put you all under guards, but I gotta tell you, nothing can kill an Archangel. Nothing we've ever heard of, anyway – we've never studied them, don't know shit about them, and your Demon refused to help us when and if he did kill Michael. We know shit all about them; their breed, their powers, anything. What I'm suggesting is a temporary fix, at best. It doesn't look good, gentlemen."

Alistair looked to Azazel. "You've got Sam looking after Dean and Cas?"

Azazel nodded. "First order I gave him as soon as John called," he replied.

"Alright." Alistair looked back to John. "I need to know everything you know about Gabriel. Who he works for, what else might have brought him here. Anything, _everything,_ and quickly."

* * *

**I'm sorry this one is so short, and I'll be writing a little timestamp at the encouragement of my beta, a little scene/ficlet of Azazel and baby Sammy, when Azazel was a kid and first bought his Demon. It's gonna be so cute! *bounces***

**Again, I'm sorry it's so short; the stuff start's happening next chapter, and I made Gabriel a very evil BAMF. For those Gabriel lovers who hate that I make him the bad guy, give the fic a chance as it will get better and some hot Sabriel sex will be your reward for perseverance, m'kay? Awesome (:**


	3. Chapter 3

**Evolution**

**Rating: NC-17**

**Pairings: Human!Azazel/Human!Alistair, Angel!Dean/Demon!Sam, Gabriel/Kali, Sam/Gabriel (arranged), Sam/Dean/Castiel, a bit of Dean/Gabriel. Mentions of Lilith/Lucifer and Rafael/Pam.**

**Warnings: Animal-like interactions, Wing-porn, Rough sex, Arranged sex under duress, Language, DSM dynamics, Violence, MPreg, OCs that are characters from the show but obviously have different relationships with the others.**

**Summary: The Archangels on the Earth were running thin. Most of them were killed at birth, perceived as too dangerous or too powerful to keep alive. Gabriel and Raphael were the last ones standing. They needed more; Lilith needed more.**

**Disclaimers: Nothing is owned. I'm just playing in Kripke's sandbox - or as I like to call it - God's epic sandbox of awesome. I may be convinced into selling my soul for creative rights, however. (:**

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* * *

**

If Alistair had been panicking, Dean was downright hysterical. It took both Sam and Castiel to physically restrain him before he would calm down, and even then he had kicked up a storm. Castiel's ribs were probably chipped; there was a nasty looking bite on his neck and forearm. Sam was pretty sure his middle and forefinger was broken on his left hand, and his head hurt from where Dean had tried to headbut him away.

_He's here…Oh God he's here…_ Dean was a mess. His wings shook, flexed and pinned themselves to his back in defense, feathers ruffled and bloody from Castiel's attempts at keeping them pinned down – he'd yanked too hard and dislocated one of the thin bones that ran through their span. It stuck out half-way through his wing, white and red against ebony. Dean trembled, fear a haze in the air that Sam and Castiel were forced to breathe in; his skin was ghostly-white and he looked worse than when Sam and Castiel had found him after Michael.

_Who is here? _Sam asked, guiding Dean's head so their eyes could meet. His fingers had wound themselves in the young Angel's hair, soothing and petting as much as he could while he held him close. Castiel had plastered himself to Dean's back, stroking his uninjured wing and his flanks, whispering little Enochian terms of endearment into his Grace, trying to calm his mate down enough to be coherent.

Sam had never seen Dean so shaken. Ever. Even his nightmares hadn't been this bad. _Dean, tell me. Love, please, who's here? Who is it that makes you tremble like this?_

Dean's eyes closed as he buried his face in Sam's neck, one hand finding a grip on his forearm and clamping down tightly. _He feels like Michael. _

_Michael is dead._

_I know what I sense! _Dean's body tensed from the force of his anger, amplified in the face of his fear. _It's not Michael, I know that, but it feels like him. Father? Brother? He's sharper. Sharper than Michael was…he's cold, like glass._ There was a moment of nothingness, where Dean finally seemed to relax, before he tensed up again, shooting to his feet faster than Sam or Cas could catch up. Only Castiel's hold on his wing slowed him down. _He's here. He's close. I can feel him. _He whirled around to his two mates, seeing them now standing too, and tried to pull free. _Let me go! We must fly! We're faster, he won't catch us – we have to get away!_

_Dean, you must calm yourself. _Castiel, the cold voice of reason, pulled Dean closer, into the confines of his arms. _Your fear makes you noticeable, _he whispered through their bond, placing a light kiss over the silvery-white fingernail scars on Dean's temple. _You are making us all vulnerable. Calm down and we shall think this through rationally, and come up with something._

_Neither Castiel nor I will let you come to harm, Dean, trust us. _Sam's dark soul pressed more closely to the erratic ball of Dean's Grace, surrounding it in black smoke and blocking out whatever unwanted light might be nearby. Slowly, very slowly, Dean's shaking stopped, the tears drying on his cheeks as he forced his heartbeat to slow down and his breathing to return to normal.

Sam purred gently, placing a light kiss on the top of Dean's head, hands still petting his hair as he spoke; _You're injured. You cannot fly. _Almost as an argument Dean flexed his wings, only to mewl when the dislocated bone sent a flare of pain up his spine. _There, you see? You are in no condition to run, or fight. Tell me, tell me where he is and I will find him._

Dean's Grace flared with panic, and if possible he clung to Sam even more tightly. _No! He's a monster, Sam. You're the one he's after; you can't face him. I won't let you._

_How do you sense this? _Castiel asked, making himself known in the conversation as he rested his head over Dean's shoulder, frowning as he met first Sam's eyes, then Dean's. The Demon's eyes shifted to his young mate in shared curiosity. _Have you met him, Dean? How do you feel him in such detail?_

_I…_ Dean shuddered, one of his hands shifting reflexively towards his head in an aborted movement, but Sam caught it, his eyes shifting to flat black when he followed the line Dean's hand would have taken, to his marred temple.

_Dean…_

_No._

_Tell us._

_**Now.**_

Dean's eyes slid closed, a heavy shudder running through him again. _I've been able to feel him ever since Michael, _he confessed, bracing himself for his mates' anger. The next words tumbled out of him, as though he were eager to just get them over with, pouring the weight he'd been carrying for a full year out now; the things that troubled him in his sleep. _Everyone Michael had ever bonded with, I can feel. There are two strong ones, perhaps his brothers or his parents, and a few weaker ones that I can only assume are past mates or offspring. One of the strong ones is here. _He opened his eyes again, determined that even if Sam hated him now, he would have to convince his mate not to go out and fight; that he would be killed if he tried. _Please, Sam, if an Archangel is after you, or the parent of one, you don't have a chance. Let us run – all of us, now, before it's too late._

Sam was already shaking his head. _No. _The Demon's eyes were black, but not angry; merely concerned, filled with something Dean had never seen in Sam's eyes before – fear. Sam was afraid. _If you can sense him, then he can sense you. I'm not letting him continue to hover like a shadow over your head. He will die today. _

_Sam, no! _Too late, the Demon was headed towards the door. Dean tried to follow but Castiel's restricting hold kept him back. Unable to restrict Sam with his body, Dean's Grace pulsed out, grabbing at the black smoke of Sam's soul fiercely and digging in. The Demon visibly shuddered in pain at Dean's suffocating grip on him, before he hissed and threw the bright light of Dean's Grace off. Red-purple substance shone from the holes Dean's Grace had torn in Sam's soul.

Sam turned around, lips curled into a snarl of warning, a silent 'Don't try that again' hanging in the air between the Demon and the two Angels. Sam's eyes had changed color completely – instead of the normal black, his irises were a clouded mix of yellow, like amber or tiger-eye. Dean had never seen such a shade before, and the implications behind it were terrifying.

_Keep him safe, Cas, _was all that Sam said before he was out the door. There was a scratching on the door, and Dean knew without looking that the Demon would be inscribing a symbol of warding and protection on the door, to keep Gabriel away while he was gone.

Unfortunately, it would also keep Dean and Castiel locked in. And all three of the creatures had forgotten temporarily that the windows were still cracked and weak from Castiel and Sam's fight earlier that week.

They were standing in what was an essentially broken circle, and were vulnerable.

* * *

Sam was lucky that Gabriel didn't want to kill him just yet, because otherwise the Demon may have been in trouble.

The Demon didn't have much to go on – all Dean had said was that he was close. The only thing that Sam could assume was that he would be able to just _tell _when he'd found or seen the Archangel. After all, there was probably some distinctive feature or sensation that one generally associates with Archangels. Sam knew enough to be wary of Gabriel's potential influence over him, but Michael hadn't affected him – or had time to – so hopefully the Demon would be safe.

His vision had gone weird. Sam, of course, couldn't see his own eyes and so didn't know they had become yellow, but he felt the effects. He could practically feel the out-of-season warmth in the air as a visible thing, and around him the people, Angels and Demons he passed had a haze of orange and red about them, their heartbeats pulsing as a center of blue, purple and white.

People kept giving him strange looks on the street, wary and uneasy about seeing an unescorted Demon around with his weird-colored eyes, but for the most part they left him alone, unwilling to get caught up in anything if it turned out the Demon had a perfectly legitimate reason for being out.

Of course he did; some Archangel bastard was threatening his mate.

The Demons he passed gave him a wide berth, immediately deferent and submissive regardless of the roles they usually played. There're several legends in Demon culture – passed on through the generations – about what happens when a Demon's eyes take on the weird pearlescent shade. The color varies, but the results are always the same; somebody's gonna die today.

Gabriel found Sam in a park, four blocks from the apartment building in which Azazel and Alistair lived. Sam heard him before he saw him, and looked up to see those brilliant white wings almost block out the sun as the Archangel landed, not ten feet from him.

Sam cocked his head to one side, watching warily as Gabriel folded his giant wings, the tips trailing along the ground, his vessel too short to keep them clean. They looked heavy – Sam's eyes carefully took in every detail of the wings, cataloguing potential weak points – like the connecting joints from wing to shoulder – and how heavy they must be, if he would be able to out-maneuver them. Gabriel was _blinding; _Sam's new vision made him only see the Archangel as a swirling mass of white and yellow, and it almost hurt to look at but he forced himself to, unwilling to let the creature take any advantage.

The Archangel was beautiful, supposedly, it that weird look-but-don't-touch kind of way, but Sam didn't see what all the Angels got their feathers in a twist for.

And then Gabriel shook his wings, and Sam inhaled.

…_Oh. _

Sam involuntarily took a step forward, drawn by that smell – that _scent, _like pure Grace and heat and forests and blood, chocolate and mint and all kinds of sweet things. So much more potent and powerful than that of his mates, and decadent, like a combination of the most powerful aphrodisiacs in the world. Sam had wondered how Dean could have submitted to Michael when he'd been trapped with the Archangel, but smelling Gabriel now – it wasn't that hard to see why.

But…it was like seeing a giant, rich chocolate cake. It smelled good, would probably taste _fantastic, _but even the tiniest piece would make you throw up or stay in the bathroom for the next hour, because it was so rich. Too rich; and Sam had never been one for chocolate. It was tempting – very tempting – but the Archangel was too bright, too cold, and too decadent for his tastes.

He took a step back again, immediately on the defense once more. Gabriel hadn't moved, but each new inhale brought another wave of his scent, another gust of temptation that Sam had to will himself into resisting.

Dean had said Gabriel was after Sam. Maybe if Gabriel killed him, he would leave Dean and Castiel alone and they could be all happy and _Angel-y _together without his interference. That gave him some comfort.

"So, you're the Demon who killed my eldest brother." Sam blinked, confused; Gabriel was speaking in Enochian, but he was actually _speaking, _not just throwing the words out there mentally and hoping Sam would catch them, like Angels tended to do. He was actually using his mouth and vocal chords. "Sam."

The Demon nodded, suddenly unsure. "That'd be me."

"It takes a lot to kill one of us." _What's with the lack of smiting? _Of course, Sam liked living – it was enjoyable – and so he wasn't exactly _disappointed _that Gabriel hadn't immediately attacked, but…it was how Sam worked. He fought and defended and everything like that, preferring to use body language and violence to get his points across. Gabriel gave nothing away with his flat ochre eyes and unmoving vessel. Not even his wings twitched and no feather rustled.

Sam didn't like this. It was like the calm before the storm and it made him even more wary. What if this was just a distraction? What if this wasn't the real attack and he'd left Dean and Cas vulnerable in the apartment? What if something happened to them and he was stuck here making friendly with his enemy?

Sam shrugged. "It didn't seem that difficult," he replied, taunting, and Gabriel's jaw clenched in anger. Finally, some emotion. He could work with that. "In fact, your brother was kind of easy, and slow. I guess that's what happens when you rape before a fight."

Gabriel's lips twitched up in a smirk. "Yes, I hear your little virgin mate was quite the fuck." Sam growled – a warning – which of course Gabriel ignored. "Strange…" He cocked his head to one side, studying Sam; "You're not affected by my Grace."

The Demon growled; "Should I be?"

"Angels are." Gabriel shrugged, his wings splaying out behind him slightly at the motion. Sam tensed again, expecting some sort of attack, but again none came – okay, he was honestly starting to get that stone-in-your-gut feeling, where you know you just overlooked something really important and now you're going to pay the consequences for it. It felt like there were hundreds of eyes on him. "One whiff of an Archangel's Grace…" He stepped forward, and Sam stepped back on reflex, eyes fixed on Gabriel's, "or one word from me, and they're mine." Another step forward, another in retreat. Sam cursed his own trigger-happiness when his back met the rough bark of one of the trees in the park, barring a quick escape. Gabriel kept pressing closer, the scent of his Grace wrapping around Sam and the Demon fought the urge to just attack. "Do you know how many Angels have followed me here? How many that would rip you apart if I asked them to?"

Gabriel's wings came forward, not touching Sam but only arching over Gabriel's back, making him appear larger and more threatening. Sam snarled in defiance, and in a quick move grabbed onto one of the wings, knotting his fingers in the sensitive underside and pulled, dragging Gabriel closer to him. His other hand wrapped around the Archangel's throat, squeezing enough to warn as Sam met Gabriel's eyes, amber staring into gold.

"I'm going torip _you _apart if you don't agree to leave this city and never come near me or any of my mates again. I swear, I fucking _swear _on everything living that I'll do it, and to hell with the consequences."

His eyes burned yellow, fire in them as he dug his thumb into Gabriel's windpipe, and ignored the awareness of dozens of creatures creeping closer to them. He kept his gaze fixed firmly on Gabriel, but out of the corner of his eye he saw a flash of reddish wings, a chatter above his head of Angels moving in closer – he didn't have a lot of time, or a lot of leverage.

Gabriel raised an eyebrow, looking for all the world like a Demon wasn't trying to choke the life out of him. Sam's fingers drew blood and he didn't even flinch. He opened his mouth to speak, but Sam's hold kept him from doing so; he rolled his eyes and _thought _at Sam; _You've gone all Alpha on me, Sammy. You're not thinking clearly._

"Oh, am I not?"

_No, you're not._ Gabriel smirked. _As we speak there are Angels around the apartment you sealed your mates in. One thought from me and they're dead, both of them. Unless…_ He pried Sam's hand away from his throat, the Demon stiff and livid, "you calm down. I don't want to kill anyone…yet…but I will if you force my hand."

Sam bared his teeth, hating the underhanded blow of threatening his mates. He swallowed down the urge to say 'You wouldn't dare', knowing that Gabriel probably didn't give a shit if he was out for blood. No one refuses Archangels. He tore his eyes away from Gabriel's near-hypnotic gaze, seeing now that there were almost two dozen Angels surrounding the Demon, all of their eyes watching him, glowing with Grace. Some of their wings were glowing too, barely restrained violence pulsing in their feathers. Yeah, Sam wouldn't last long if Gabriel gave the order to attack.

His vision dimmed as the yellow faded from his eyes, letting them go back to their normal hazel shade. When they did so, Gabriel's blinding light dimmed as well, and Sam could see the creature for how he outwardly looked – a short man with sharp, elfin features, slicked back honey hair and a little bit of stubble around his jaw and down his neck. His lips were thin and there was a smirk on his face, and his eyes were no less golden.

"There," Gabriel purred, grinning with a spark in his eye, "that's better."

"What do you want from me?" Sam asked, fear for his mates keeping his temper in check, just barely.

The Archangel cocked his head to one side, looking up at the Demon. "Eventually? I want your head on a plate," he said with a smile, and Sam snorted, smirking a little in return – that was more like it. You knew where you stood with a good death threat. "But for now…Thanks to you, my kind is a dying breed. You are one of the few Demons bonded to an Angel, able to withstand their Grace for a child. I want you."

Sam's eyes flickered to black for a moment, frowning as he tried to understand what Gabriel was saying. "Demons and Angels make Archangels?"

"Smart boy. It's the only way to make them," Gabriel said, withdrawing from Sam for a moment, grasping his wrists behind his back in the pose of cocky bad guys with a superiority complex everywhere. "Some combination of genetics that create them. There has only been one litter of Archangels allowed to live and to avoid inbreeding, we didn't breed together. My brother and I are the only ones left. We need" – his eyes moved back to Sam, turning to look at the Demon over his shoulder "- variation."

"So you're just going to go around the country and force Demons to mate with you?" Sam asked, disgusted, his nose wrinkling and his eyes flickering black again.

Gabriel shrugged. "There's also my brother."

"That's sick. You can forget it," Sam snarled, taking a step forward towards Gabriel, and stopped only when three of the Angels surrounding them growled in unison, their yellowed wings flexing behind them, threatening. "You might as well kill me now."

Gabriel sighed; "I hoped it wouldn't come to this, Sammy –"

"Don't call me that."

"- but, if you're not open to persuasion…perhaps I can convince you otherwise." Gabriel smiled, an expression entirely too innocent for their topic of conversation. "Maybe when I have your mate in my care, you'll be a little more open to negotiation."

"Stay away from him!" Sam lunged forward, intent on tearing the wings right off Gabriel if it meant keeping Dean safe, even if he died because of it. Too late, though – Gabriel unfurled his wings and pressed down, beating them once powerfully and the three Angels that had growled at Sam launched onto the Demon's back, their combined weight forcing him to the ground and pinning him there. He could hear Gabriel hovering above his head and twisted his neck painfully to see him.

"Don't worry, I have no intention of killing him," Gabriel said, grinning in that still innocent-insane way. "After all, it doesn't have to be _your _Demon seed he carries. And he's practically my in-law; I've always loved reunions."

"You son of a bitch!" Sam yelled, ignored as Gabriel turned and flew away, several of the other Angels following him. Sam was only let up once Gabriel had disappeared, hidden among the trees of the park and likely already at the apartment. The Angels took off quickly, eyes flashing white when Sam growled at them, but there was no time to waste in fighting – he had to help Dean and Castiel. He had to rescue them, to save them.

So he ran. He ran faster than he'd ever needed to in his life, and when he reached the apartment he found the windows to be shattered, glass creating a fine layer on the pavement below where the windows used to be.

_Fuck, _he thought to himself, then; _Hold on Dean, Cas, I'm coming. _And he sprinted inside, praying to a God that probably didn't exist that he wasn't too late.


	4. Chapter 4

**Evolution**

**Sequel to 'Animals': .**

**Rating: NC-17**

**Pairings: Human!Azazel/Human!Alistair, Angel!Dean/Demon!Sam, Gabriel/Kali, Sam/Gabriel (arranged), Sam/Dean/Castiel, a bit of Dean/Gabriel. Mentions of Lilith/Lucifer and Rafael/Pam.**

**Warnings: Animal-like interactions, Wing-porn, Rough sex, Arranged sex under duress, Language, DSM dynamics, Violence, MPreg, OCs that are characters from the show but obviously have different relationships with the others.**

**Summary: The Archangels on the Earth were running thin. Most of them were killed at birth, perceived as too dangerous or too powerful to keep alive. Gabriel and Raphael were the last ones standing. They needed more; Lilith needed more.**

**Disclaimers: Nothing is owned. I'm just playing in Kripke's sandbox - or as I like to call it - God's epic sandbox of awesome. I may be convinced into selling my soul for creative rights, however. (:**

**Please let the record show that I HAVE NOT FINISHED THIS STORY YET.

* * *

**

There was a pitiful amount of information on the Archangels and 'Morning Star' that John was cleared to give to Azazel and Alistair – a fact that agitated the two men greatly. This was _their _problem, wasn't it? They'd _made _it their problem, and they had a right to know everything they could – how to fight, what to do…

"He was uncollared, the report says," John muttered, sifting through the tiny pile he'd been able to pull on Gabriel. "Which can mean anything, really, from him fighting himself free – meaning he's doing this vigilante – or being released so that he's not distracted." He rubbed his hand over his face, scratching at his beard.

"Wait, wait," Alistair said, holding his hands up in front of him. "You're talking like these things even have the intelligence to plan shit like this out on their own. Come on! They can't be that smart…right?" He looked to Azazel, seeing his partner biting his lip, unsure. "Right?"

"Sam can speak," Azazel said quietly. "He and Castiel rescued Dean on their own, Alistair. I think they can be as smart as they want us to believe they are."

There was a pause, and all three of the man jumped when the phone on John's desk rang out, shrill and piercing. He sent them an apologetic look before picking up, answering with a terse 'Winchester'.

Another pause, and then another pause, and then one more for good measure, because there wasn't enough tension already…John's eyes widened significantly and Azazel and Alistair leaned in to try and hear the other half of the conversation, to no avail.

"Right. We'll be there in five minutes," John said, hanging up abruptly and standing. "Gentlemen, we've just had a report come in that there's been a break-in in your building, and there's a shitload of Angels surrounding it. I think we need to leave, right now." He grabbed his leather jacket, slinging it over his shoulders as he rounded his desk, leaving the two men to run to catch up, because John is a tall man who takes long strides when he's purposeful and Alistair and Azazel…do not.

"Why all the Angels?" Azazel asked as they followed John into his police car, Alistair taking shotgun while Azazel slid in the back. "I remember you talking about Archangels being really powerful and having effects on Angels when they're nearby, but what kind of effects exactly?"

"Archangels _are _fucking powerful," John growled, wrenching the key in the ignition and giving a grim smile when it roared to life. "Their Grace is like…well, it's like a narcotic to Angels, or an aphrodisiac - _something_. The only thing we can tell so far is that any Angel in close proximity to Archangels will immediately do whatever they say."

"So Dean and Castiel…"

"Will likely be influenced by Gabriel, yes."

"What about Sam?" Azazel asked, leaning forward, his fingers curling through the meshing that separated the front of the car from the back. "Do Demons fall prey to them, too?"

"I don't know. I don't think so," John replied. "Not that we've heard of." He turned on the siren, pulling out into the lunch hour traffic and growling at every car that wasn't fast enough to get out of his way.

No one said anything, but all three men were thinking the same thing; this was going to end very badly.

* * *

"Ah, Sam, so kind of you to join us."

Sam had run up the stairs to find the door already busted down, an army of Angels waiting for him inside with glowing white eyes, flexing wings and bared teeth. He snarled, low and under his breath so as not to cause a riot, his eyes shifting into flat black as he took stock of the situation.

The apartment was carnage, quite literally. The entire window was missing, torn out of the side of the building like some giant hand had just taken a piece of the wall with it. There were Angels _everywhere – _on the bookshelf perch that Dean was so fond of, and sitting on the windowsill, and on the couch and in the kitchen, on that little half-wall that separated the two rooms, and in the middle…

Was Gabriel, Dean and Castiel.

Sam growled at the Archangel, fingers flexing into fists and then relaxing by his sides as he stepped forward. "Let them go, Gabriel," he demanded, and the Archangel smirked.

"'Fraid I can't, kiddo. Not until you give me what I want." He had his long silver blade out, and was holding it against Dean's neck, his other hand fisted tightly in the top joint of the Angel's dislocated wing. Dean was panting in a mix of pain and fear, blood running down the side of his face from a gash on his forehead, and Sam could just see the beginnings of bruises forming on his arms – his mate had fought back. The Demon felt a momentary surge of warmth and affection towards the Angel. "Come on, now, Sammy," Gabriel snapped, bringing the Demon's attention back to him. "You know what I want. It would be a shame if your pretty little mate here had to suffer because you were too proud and stubborn to save him." The Archangel knelt down slightly, pressing the blade against Dean's neck so the Angel was forced to lean back against him, and Dean whimpered softly when Gabriel's hand stroked through his feathers, rubbing them softly, but the action was pain around the pale, jutting bone.

Sam lunged forward, intent on killing the Archangel where he stood, but Gabriel cocked his head to one side and suddenly there were five Angels there, pulling him back, holding the Demon away from Gabriel with their combined strength. They bared their teeth and snapped at him, but didn't hurt him – Gabriel needed him healthy, after all.

The Archangel smiled and shook his head, seeing the Demon's eyes flash yellow for a moment under his anger. "You really should calm down, Sammy. Someone could get hurt."

"You don't want him," Sam said, gasping when two of the Angels wrenched both his arms back, straining the muscle. "He's infertile. He can't have children anyway." It was a desperate move, but if Gabriel couldn't use Dean for breeding then maybe the Archangel would just leave his mate alone. "Please, don't hurt him."

Gabriel clicked slightly, sucking in one cheek into his mouth as he made a sound much like one uses calling a horse. "Well, if I can't use him…" The blade pressed harder, and Sam growled, fighting against the hold the Angels had on him. Dean whined slightly when he first felt his skin give and blood trickled down his neck, staining the light material of his shirt. Sam growled again and fought, his eyes searching out Castiel.

The Angel was kneeling at Gabriel's feet, staring up at the Archangel and _not doing a damned thing _to stop this. _This is your own fucking mate, too! _Sam growled at the Angel, subsiding with heavy breathing when the blue-eyes Angel blinked slowly at him. Guy looked like he was stoned out of his mind.

"What did you do to him?" Sam growled, jerking his head towards the kneeling Angel. Gabriel's hazel-gold eyes flickered to Castiel and he grinned, taking his hand off Dean's wing to stroke through the Angel's hair, pushing his head back so Castiel had to look up at him, mewling softly. The Archangel's grin widened.

"Oh, nothing," the Archangel said dismissively, letting Castiel's head drop and returning his attention to Sam, still smirking slightly as the Angel curled up closer to him like a fucking dog, nuzzling into his side and the base of his giant white wings. "Angels just have certain…weaknesses when it comes to my breed."

"Your…Your Grace," Sam said, putting two and two together. "Why won't it affect me?"

Gabriel cocked his head to one side; "Why do you think? You don't _have _Grace, Sammy. And besides, when an Archangel baby _does _get made, one parent will have to be able to resist it. Now," he said, flaring out his wings before Sam could respond. The Demon watched as, in unison, all the Angels in the room lifted their heads and inhaled the scent, that divine-rich chocolate scent. "You've been wasting my time for too long. It's either going to be you or him. Make your choice, Sammy."

"Please," Sam begged, desperate as he began to struggle in earnest against the Angels holding him, "please don't hurt him. Let him go."

_Sam. No, _Dean murmured, eyes focused, wide, on Sam, shaking his head vehemently. The Angel's wings flared, knocking Gabriel off balance as he tried getting to his feet, grabbing hold of Gabriel's sword arm. The Archangel snarled, and the Angels around him growled as well, reacting to his mood. Realizing his mate was about to get ripped to shreds at the mob, Sam finally managed to throw off the Angels as their attentions refocused on Dean, and lunged forward, intent on killing Gabriel right where he stood and ending the whole effect the Archangel had.

He hadn't intended on running into Castiel.

The Angel was still under Gabriel's influence, and therefore intent on protecting his 'mate' or 'master' or whatever the fuck the Archangel was to him. He'd gotten up to fight Dean off, and turned when he sensed Sam close. The Angel was just suddenly _there, _and Sam…didn't know what happened. He didn't.

There was just so much chaos, and Angels were everywhere and it was hard to tell the difference between them and then suddenly Castiel was _there, _and Sam knew that if he didn't do _something, _that Castiel _would, _and…He struck.

He lashed out, intent on getting to Dean before his mate was ripped apart, and Castiel suffered the consequence. The Angel just dropped in a small pool of blood running from his mouth, and Sam didn't have time to really think about it because Dean was still in danger, and by the time he fought his way to the still-grappling Archangel and his mate, and he realized what he'd done, it'd been too late.

Dean felt it, though. He felt Castiel's Grace trickle away into nothingness and gasped, clutching at his chest as he dropped like a stone. Sam just managed to catch him before he hit the floor. Dean was coughing up blood, choking on it like he was the one that was injured, his wings quivering as he pulled them in on himself as some sort of shield. Gabriel abruptly raised his hand, calling off the attack and the Angels around them stilled, sending their 'Master's command. Sam looked up from where he had been holding Dean as his mate frantically clawed at his chest, feeling like he was dying, and met the Archangel's golden eyes. Gabriel was watching them with a calculating look, his gaze flickering between the Demon, the Angel and Castiel where he still lay, untouched and awkwardly sprawled where Sam had felled him behind the couch. He lowered his hand and waved the gathered Angels away, to the corners of the apartment.

There were sirens outside. Sam's vision was getting blurry, feeling Dean's pain as though it was his own, and the tears began to fall as he held his suffering mate close. He tensed when he felt the Archangel kneel down next to them, his hands curling around Dean protectively and pulling him close.

"Don't touch him," he growled, voice breaking on the last word as he glared at Gabriel as harshly as he could, the effect somewhat ruined by the fact that he was about ten seconds away from crying. Dean was sobbing dryly against him, and there was an ache in his gut and in his head from where Castiel was just…missing. The feeling of their Graces snapped apart so suddenly and so brutally was a staggering blow to the young Angel, who felt as though he'd been hit by a semi and then thrown into the path of a combine harvester. Needless to say, they were both wrecks at that moment.

"I'm sorry, Sammy, but I can't do that yet," Gabriel replied, voice soft and Sam hated him all the more for it. The Archangel reached forward, his hand dipping under the base of Dean's wing, around to his stomach, his fingers splaying over the smooth flatness below Dean's t-shirt. The Demon holding him tensed and growled but was kept at bay by the tight hold the Archangel still had on his blade. Gabriel closed his eyes and reached out with his Grace, finding what was making Dean infertile – an underdevelopment in the muscles that, basically, swelled while pregnant, excreting fluids full of nutrients that kept the babies alive, like birds in eggs, and nudging them gently, healing them with his Grace as best he could so that Dean would, hopefully, be able to conceive. He'd actually become pregnant several times, but without those muscles the fetuses never lasted long enough for there to be symptoms.

He pulled away, wings shaking slightly, because creating life or the means for it is an exhausting process, and then met Sam's hate-filled eyes. "If you do this – if Dean bears a child for you, and you give it to me – I will heal the Angel." The Demon's eyes widened, hope stirring just briefly under his skin. The Angel in his arms sensed it, blinking back to his surroundings as he looked up at Gabriel.

"You…Is that possible?" the Demon asked, his eyes going to Castiel's body. "You wouldn't…why would you do that?"

Gabriel smirked slightly, but didn't answer – he stood, going over to Castiel's body and kneeling down beside him, hand on the dead Angel's chest. Sam's breath caught at that – Castiel was _dead. _He had _killed _him. God…how would Dean ever forgive him? Even if he did fix that…The Archangel's hand splayed slightly, fingertips glowing when he touched the Angel, and Sam watched as Castiel just…solidified in front of him.

"He won't decay – his body will not be lost over the time of the pregnancy," Gabriel said, turning to look back at the broken pair and standing, wings flaring out to the side as he, one by one, sent the Angels away. "I will be back in one month, Sam, and if Dean has not conceived by that point, then I'm taking him elsewhere, and you'll never see either of them again." Gabriel sighed slightly, running a hand through his slicked-back hair, and gave a wan smile. "It didn't have to be this difficult, you know."

"I'll kill you, you bastard," Sam growled, snarling from where he knelt, still cradling Dean to his chest. The sirens were getting even louder, deafening without the soundproofing of the window. "I'll rip your heart from your Goddamned chest and watch you choke on it!"

"Temper, temper," Gabriel replied, shaking his head. "I'll see you soon, Sammy." Then, he flared his wings and turned, taking off along with the rest of the Angels, the entire apartment momentarily eclipsed by his massive wings before they were gone. Dean gasped in Sam's arms, like Gabriel's influence had been keeping him quiet, and sedated, and Sam immediately turned his attention to his mate.

_Dean…Dean, are you alright? _Sam asked, cupping Dean's face frantically and wiping some of the blood he'd coughed up. _Oh, God, Dean…_

_Cas…_

_Dean…I'm so sorry, _Sam said, begging Dean without words to understand, to forgive and just understand. _I'm so, so sorry…_

_Cas…God, Cas! _Dean scrambled up, turning wide, horrified eyes to the body of his dead mate, and gasped again, damn near collapsing at the sight of Castiel just laying there, not breathing, his eyes blank and staring at the ceiling. _No…No! _He crawled over to Castiel, propping his upper body up and shaking him, as if Castiel was just unconscious instead of…_dead._ _Castiel…please…God, no…_

_I'm so sorry, Dean, _Sam murmured, sliding closer and then away, pained, when Dean flared his wings, blocking the Demon from touching him, blocking Castiel from sight.

_Don't come near him. Don't touch him! _Dean snarled, his wings shaking from the effort of holding them up – injured and bloodied – to keep Sam away. _You don't get to touch him…_ Then, there was just the sound of sobbing as Dean pulled Castiel as close as he possibly could, just _willing _the Angel to live again, to take another breath, to blink or say his name…_something._

Nothing happened.

Nothing continued to happen until Alistair, Azazel and John came through the door to find Sam, dejected and sorrowful as he watched Dean, sobbing under a shield of ebony feathers as he held his dead mate to his chest. John immediately ordered his team to do a clean sweep, because if they found any evidence of specific Angels registered to the city, they could maybe get a lead on where the Archangel went, but there wasn't much hope.


End file.
